My daughter was real

I know there are people who don't think Bronwyn was a "real baby", just like I know people are starting to wonder when I'll "get over it." I fantazise about someone saying that to me directly, so I could beat them.

A number of people, including a VP where I work, have come to me to say they have lost a baby too, and I realize they're referring - in many cases - to an early miscarriage.

I have never had a miscarriage, but I imagine it's incredibly painful and brings about many of the same feelings I'm having now. But I'm angry that people assume the two experiences are the same.

I know my daughter would be more "real" to people if she had lived even a day, an hour, outside of me. For the record, she was 5+ pounds and perfect. She had lots of dark hair, long eyelashes, my nose and chin, and her Dad's mouth. I delivered her at 8:20 in the morning on December 16, 2008, about 24 hours after we found out she was gone. I believe - I know - she died around 4:00 AM on December 15.

I held her while she was still warm. The chaplain held her and blessed her and gave her the name we had picked for her. She was cuddled and cried over by her Mom and her Dad, she was gently kissed by her grandparents. She was just a few weeks away from sleeping in the crib we bought for her, from riding in the fancy stroller bought by her grandparents.

We had already rearranged our life for this little baby, and we were in the home stretch. Or so we thought, anyway. And I think I would scream these facts in the face of anyone who suggested she was not "real." I would want to, anyway.